


Absolutely Ridiculous

by -catalyst (xo_thefirst)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xo_thefirst/pseuds/-catalyst
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a chaotic mess. He blames Ushijima Wakatoshi, opposite hitter slash wing spiker of the Schweiden Adlers, for it.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 186





	Absolutely Ridiculous

**Author's Note:**

> ushiiwa ushiiwa ushiiwa
> 
> don't be fooled. kageyama appears very briefly in this ;n;  
> we barely speak of oikawa :x  
> yes, iwaizumi is still in california, according to chapter 395 ;u;

With a twenty-page research paper due tomorrow, Hajime has officially decided: Tuesdays are the worst days to exist on the planet. This isn’t even his first paper he’s had to write—it’s his _third_ —and he’s getting real tired of sitting in his favorite coffee shop, drinking his favorite coffee, while reading about something else regarding exercise science for the _fiftieth_ time. It’s getting annoying at this point, but if he wants to graduate with at least a Master’s and then possibly a Ph.D., then he has to go through with this.

He reads over his last paragraph, cross-checking to confirm he’s actually stating some sort of fact instead of fiction, and groans when all he sees are blurred lines on the screen. It’s not even close to five in the afternoon, but he’s pretty sure he’s been here for at least three hours already. Has he gone _weak?_

Suddenly, his cell phone lights up. It’s been put on silent for as long as he can remember at this point and he swallows down the rest of his coffee before picking up his phone. There’s a single message on it and it’s enough to try and quell the smile trying to pop onto his face at the sight of it. He’s exhausted, his eyes hurt, and he _still_ has volleyball practice because he’s an idiot and still doesn’t want to give up the sport. He needs to look dead, not alive.

_I’m meeting my father soon. I locked your front door, but I did leave the kitchen lights on. I left some food in the stove for you to reheat when you return. I’m not sure when I’ll be back._

Screw it. Hajime lets a small smile slip onto his lips anyways.

_That’s fine. I’ll make sure to reheat it when I get home_

He turns back to his paper, putting his phone to sleep, but he doesn’t get much progress done. He’s only read one sentence before he sees his cell phone light up again.

_Have you slept enough today? I didn’t see you before you left._

Hajime glances at the message before staring at his laptop. He really needs to focus and finish this before six, so he has enough time to change and get ready for practice at seven, but then that means he won’t be able to eat anything until ten at the earliest. Maybe, they’ll finish by nine and he can get home by nine-thirty, if he’s lucky.

_Hajime, don’t overwork yourself._

Hajime wants to laugh. He’s never heard that one used on him before. If he finishes this all in time and everything goes as planned today, he’ll only need to read and revise this tonight after dinner or in the morning before it’s due at noon. He glances at the time before returning to his phone.

_I’ll be fine, Wakatoshi. Have fun with your dad_

His message immediately changes to _read_ and he breathes in deep, placing his phone back on the table, before sighing it all out. He has forty-five minutes before he has to leave and he needs to come up with two more paragraphs before he finally has a complete draft to work with. He can do this.

_Enjoy your volleyball practice._

Hajime can fucking _do this_.

To be completely, startling, _fucking_ honest, Hajime has no idea what he got himself into five years ago when he stumbled upon Wakatoshi on campus. He had only wanted to meet his father, even though he didn’t even know they were related at the time, and he had only wanted to help Wakatoshi understand and improve his skills on the court. He had no idea where helping and occasionally messaging the Schweiden Adlers’ opposite hitter slash wing spiker turned into late night phone calls, where he’d be struggling to stay awake after a particularly grueling day, or early morning video calls, because Wakatoshi had finished a late volleyball practice and needed to understand where he made faults during his plays. Though, to be fair, he did enjoy seeing Kageyama toss to Wakatoshi and how he kept making comments that Wakatoshi was obviously not hearing.

“ _Iwaizumi-san, it’s okay to ignore his calls every once in a while. His plays have gotten a lot better after consulting you_.”

Hajime has no idea how they became anything more than rivals on a court.

By the time his practice ends, it’s ten at night. He’ll be home by ten-thirty and it’s so close to midnight on Tuesday, that he just lumps the end of the night together with being another Fucked Up Tuesday. He still needs to proofread his paper and shower and double-check what he needs to do for tomorrow—oh. He needs to eat, too.

“Dammit,” he mutters, fingering his keys in his pocket. He has a never-ending list of things to do. “God _dammit_.”

He’s too busy cursing the world, thinking over his to-do list for the night and the next day, that he doesn’t realize that more than the kitchen lights are on when he gets home. There’s the scent of something fresh in the air and when he looks over to the small table by his tv, there’s a vase full of fresh flowers sitting there. It dumbfounds him so much, because he _knows_ they weren’t there before he left for practice, that he doesn’t even realize there’s another scent in the air that smells like _steak_ and vegetables.

“Hajime,” Wakatoshi suddenly calls. It startles him, the door finally closing behind him, and he almost forgets to lock it when he looks towards the kitchen and sees his sad excuse for a dining table covered with a deep red cloth, candles, and _another_ vase of flowers— _red fucking roses_ —sitting right in the damn middle of the thing.

“Oh my god,” Hajime wheezes out. He thinks he’s about to collapse. Have they even been _dating?_ No, he knows they’ve been dating. There’s no other reason for Wakatoshi to visit him so much in-between his breaks except to see his father and even _he_ doesn’t visit his parents all that much. “Holy shit,” he breathes again. Wakatoshi is walking out of his kitchen, wearing a _really nice_ buttoned-up shirt and slacks, carrying _two fucking plates of steak and vegetables_. “What the fuck,” he almost squeaks when Wakatoshi glances up at him once before returning to the kitchen and coming back out with a _bottle of wine_. “‘Toshi!” he actually does screech. It causes his boyfriend to pause in opening the bottle to stare at him. He doesn’t look confused, but Hajime knows he is because he isn’t moving or making any indication to do _anything else_.

Then, Wakatoshi finally opens his mouth. “Is something the matter, Hajime?”

There are about ten million things that are causing his heart attack right now, but he can’t tell him that. “You’re going to propose” is what escapes his mouth instead, before he screams and then covers his own mouth with a hand to stop his insanity from flying everywhere.

This time, Wakatoshi’s eyebrows furrow together. He _looks_ confused. “Why would I propose?” he asks, “Do you want to get married?”

Hajime stares at him like he’s crazy before his hands fly everywhere in front of him, trying to gesture to him how _absurd_ everything looks from his perspective. “I—! What is all this?!” He stares at the still closed bottle of wine. “Are you trying to break up with me?” He can’t even comprehend how _devastating_ that thought is. _Who. Fucking. Knew_.

“Why would I end our relationship?” Wakatoshi questions next. He carefully places the bottle of wine on the table before fully facing him. There’s a noticeable frown on his face and Hajime would think it’s actually kind of sort of cute if he wasn’t dying right at this very moment. “Is everything alright, Hajime? You haven’t answered any of my questions.”

Hajime really does try hard. He’s worked hard his entire life, trying to bring dedication and motivation into everything he does, but absolutely _none_ of that has prepared him for this. He can’t even get any words out of his mouth. He’s pretty sure he’s just standing there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, because he’s completely and wholly dumbfounded.

“The food will get cold if we don’t eat soon,” Wakatoshi mentions, glancing down to their meals, before proceeding to open the wine. “My father said this type of wine is acceptable for a date.”

The words replay in his head and it takes several minutes for them to process. But when they do, Hajime takes another look at everything in his apartment. Flowers, candle-lit dinner, wine? “A date?” he asks, looking back to see Wakatoshi nod at him.

“You’ve had a rough semester. My father kept mentioning to me how it appears as if you’ve become a ‘walking zombie.’” Wakatoshi frowns at that, but Hajime thinks it’s more of a pout and it’s _adorable_. “His concern for your well-being has somehow increased my concern for your well-being, so I talked to him about it and he said a ‘date night’ would most likely help in this situation.”

Hajime’s heart kicks into overdrive. “You talk about us to your dad?” He watches as Wakatoshi nods.

“Is that not acceptable? Kageyama isn’t the best to consult with and I take it that Oikawa still has ill feelings towards me.”

Hajime wants to snort at the idea of Kageyama giving dating advice. That’d be really cute to see. Instead, he lets a small smile slip onto his lips, glancing at everything around the room again. “Where did you learn to do ‘date night’ like this?” He finally moves away from the front door, his limbs feeling almost back to normal, and goes to the vase of flowers by his tv. He leans over to smell them and his heart soars at the thought of all this.

“Well, other than asking my father for guidance,” Wakatoshi answers. He can hear the wine being poured into the cups he leaves in the cupboard. “I did some research online.”

This time, Hajime does laugh. He looks over to his boyfriend and thinks about how _ridiculous_ all of this is. “All because I looked like I was the walking dead?” he asks, watching as Wakatoshi puts down the bottle and finally walks towards him. “Do I really look that bad?” It’s still strange, how he has to tilt his head back to stare at his boyfriend, but he’s usually not around people as tall as Wakatoshi.

“You still appear acceptable to me,” Wakatoshi says. He reaches out for him and Hajime lets himself be pulled in with hands on his hips. “Although, you do have dark lines underneath your eyes.”

Okay, so, Hajime didn’t know that. “I do?” He tries to look around his boyfriend for some type of reflective surface and _since when did he care about how he looked like?_ He stills when he feels a hand touch his cheek, guiding him, until he tilts his head up and their lips meet for a kiss. It makes him sigh, easily melting all his stresses away.

“Yes, but you’re still handsome,” Wakatoshi murmurs when they part, long enough for them to stare at each other, before he leans down again. It’s a short kiss, a peck more than anything, but Hajime keeps chasing after him every time he tries to pull away. It makes Wakatoshi chuckle. “The food will get cold, Hajime.”

“That’s okay,” he easily answers, wrapping his arms around Wakatoshi’s neck to keep him in place. Though, their strength is practically equal compared to each other. They can break out of each other’s grasps whenever they want.

“You haven’t eaten yet,” Wakatoshi says in-between kisses, ones that Hajime keeps trying to prolong _if his dumb boyfriend would let him_. “You really need to eat after the day you’ve had.”

Hajime finally groans, dropping his hands to Wakatoshi’s chest and pushing him until he stumbles over and backwards onto the sofa, trying not to trip on the small coffee table in the process. “Shut up and just kiss me, will you?” he demands, staring down at him with hands on his hips. “I’m going to make out with you for ten minutes, and _then_ we’ll eat.” He watches as Wakatoshi glances to their dinner and he frowns, instantly moving forward to straddle his boyfriend’s hips. “We’ll just warm it up again later,” he compromises, kissing Wakatoshi’s temple, before trailing more kisses down his cheek to his lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs, sighing, when he hears a grunt in response.

Within minutes, Hajime gasps in surprise when he’s flipped over to his side and then his back. Wakatoshi is between his legs and he stares up at him, heavily confused, because _what just happened_. There’s a warm hand on his stomach, where his shirt has ridden up, and a flush of heat suddenly races down his spine when he sees Wakatoshi lower himself until their hips are flush together. “Wakatoshi?” he blurts, closing his eyes when his boyfriend leans down to kiss his forehead.

“After some consideration, I thought this may also be an acceptable way to help you relax, in the case that this type of date night wouldn’t work out,” Wakatoshi confesses. It takes a slow, long minute for Hajime to understand what’s going on. It helps that he feels Wakatoshi’s hips twitch against his own, too. “Which would you prefer, Hajime?”

Hajime’s gaze instantly flashes over to the table-lit dinner. It really is a pretty set-up and everything looks so _expensive_ , but then he glances back up at his boyfriend who’s patiently waiting for his answer. His stare is something else and he loves it. “I think,” he quietly says, watches as Wakatoshi’s gaze falls to his lips when he speaks, “I’d prefer both.” He’s ready when Wakatoshi suddenly dives down to claim his lips for his own.

There’s a different type of strength that exudes from Wakatoshi when he’s like this. It’s firm yet gentle and Hajime loves drowning in it. He loves how Wakatoshi can move him how he wants, whenever he wants, and it’s no different now when his boyfriend pulls him down the sofa so his neck isn’t craning at an awkward angle on the armrest. He groans at the relief it brings, tilting his head up as Wakatoshi re-situates himself into a more comfortable position for himself, too, and tries to breathe through his nose as his boyfriend licks into his mouth.

“This shirt is soft,” Hajime breathes out, once he’s managed to tilt his head away to properly gather air in his lungs. He groans when Wakatoshi simply moves to kiss down his jaw and to his neck. His hands are fisted at his boyfriend’s collar and he tries to unbutton them to get to the burning skin underneath. “Oh my god.”

Wakatoshi grunts, the vibration tickling Hajime’s neck where he bites at it, before moving down lower. “You can have it, if you want,” he murmurs, sliding his hand up Hajime’s bare side and sliding up his shirt with it. “I can purchase another.”

Hajime groans when his boyfriend’s fingers finally touch his nipple. “Fuck you and your rich ass.” He gasps when Wakatoshi pinches it.

“Playing on a well-known team has its advantages,” Wakatoshi agrees. He sucks a small spot on his shoulder, where the collar of a shirt could easily fall and show its mark, and Hajime moans when Wakatoshi suddenly ducks his head to lick at the nipple he’s been abusing. And then he stops. He _fucking stops_ to move further down his body and put his ear to his _fucking stomach_. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” he asks, and it takes all of Hajime’s willpower to not throttle his boyfriend into the wall. He knows he can do it. He’s _angry enough_ to do it. “Your stomach is growling.”

“I don’t care,” Hajime instantly says, grabbing fistfuls of Wakatoshi’s shirt and forcing him back up his body. “You’re finishing what you started.”

The darkness in Wakatoshi’s eyes don’t dissipate, but Hajime can see the underlying care swirling beneath it. It strengthens the longer he glares up at him and he _knows_ Wakatoshi is stubborn enough to stare until his eyes fall out of his head. It only takes a simple “Hajime—” before he’s rolling his hips up, feeling Wakatoshi’s arms buckle next to him as he groans, and then shoving his boyfriend to sit up so he can, too.

Wakatoshi looks absolutely bewildered and, well, Hajime can deal with that. He stands before his boyfriend can say anything else. “Come on, then,” he grunts out, grabbing Wakatoshi’s hand and forcibly dragging him to the table. He puts a hand on his shoulder to push him into his seat before he sits on his lap next. He can definitely feel something hard underneath him.

There’s a moment where Hajime tries to control himself, to take in a deep breath and relax, but he can’t resist rolling his hips back just to feel the friction of it, to feel Wakatoshi’s cock grow hotter right under him. It’s enough to feel his boyfriend’s head drop to his shoulder and groan. “This is where I’m eating,” he declares, feels Wakatoshi’s hands grip his hips hard enough to bruise.

“Once this table is cleared,” Wakatoshi breathes, forcing Hajime to move in little circles and causing him to groan softly at the action. “I’m fucking you into it.”

The steak already looks cold and unappetizing. It looks like everything Hajime wants to throw off this table just so he and Wakatoshi _can get it on already_ , but he knows he hasn’t eaten anything substantial at all today. He only ate a bit of what Wakatoshi cooked before he left to meet his father and even then, he already burned through all of that during practice. He breath hitches when Wakatoshi spreads his legs with his own, pushing him forward slightly with a hand in the middle of his back. His boyfriend ruts up and he moans at the friction it brings, groaning when Wakatoshi grabs a fistful of the back of his shirt and one of his wrists to twist behind his back.

“It seems I’ve missed you far too much,” Wakatoshi murmurs, grunting, as he ruts up once more before his hand spasms and lets go of his wrist.

“We haven’t seen each other in months,” Hajime breathes, now using the edge of the table as leverage to push his ass backwards and cause both of them to moan, Wakatoshi’s hands flying back to his hips to bruise. “To be honest, this is natural.”

Maybe, they’ll just dry hump each other to completion so they can finally eat this goddamn food. It looks promising anyways, with the way Wakatoshi keeps forcing him to move, too. It’s even bordering on painful, but Hajime wants to cum and if Wakatoshi doesn’t give him what he wants right this second, he’s going to—

Suddenly, Wakatoshi is standing. He’s standing and Hajime is going to faceplant in steak and vegetables and dangerous silverware and, “holy _shit_.” He’s spinning before he’s falling forward over the armrest of his sofa. His pants and underwear are shoved off and then there’s a hand gripping his cock. It’s warm and rough and Hajime groans into the cushion when the hand starts stroking him fast.

He can barely hear the rustling of clothes before he feels Wakatoshi’s bare dick rubbing up against his ass. He slides between his cheeks perfectly, catching on the rim every now and then, and Hajime denies the fact he’s now drooling into his own sofa. His hands search for something to hold onto and he moans when he feels Wakatoshi’s free hand fall over one of his own to hold on tight.

“If we don’t do this now, we won’t be able to focus on anything else,” Wakatoshi murmurs in his ear. It’s enough to have Hajime groan again, trying to move his hips, but Wakatoshi is a force Hajime loves to feel and, “ _oh my god, ‘Toshi_.”

There’s another groan, his hand moving faster, and Hajime moans loud and louder when he finally orgasms. Wakatoshi strokes him through it, making him see white, and Hajime lets out this _whine_ as he pushes his hips up that makes his boyfriend moan long and low. His hips move frantically, his breath ragged against his ear, and Hajime moans again when he feels Wakatoshi finally cum. Warm streaks paint his back and it takes a moment for Hajime to remember how to breathe. He chuckles when he feels Wakatoshi suck in a deep breath before kissing the spot underneath his ear.

“Let me get a warm towel,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone. The warmth draped over him is gone and all Hajime can do is stay there, already missing the welcomed weight of his boyfriend. How the _fuck_ did he get himself into this?

Cleaning up takes no time at all with how efficient Wakatoshi is about cleanliness. It also helps that Hajime finally musters up the strength to help him reheat the food and make sure the candles still have plenty to burn before it destroys anything else. What doesn’t help is him returning to sit on Wakatoshi’s lap to eat his dinner, but his boyfriend’s not complaining, so he doesn’t move. They’re already satiated enough to get through a peaceful dinner, until Wakatoshi opens his damn mouth.

“Have you finished your research paper?”

Hajime groans, slumping backwards until his boyfriend is supporting his full weight. He forgot he has to start proofreading it tonight or wake up early to do it. His boyfriend chuckles though, and that’s always pleasant to hear.

“I suppose we’ll postpone more sex for tomorrow after you complete it.”

“That is the _worst_ idea on the planet,” Hajime instantly says, turning to glare at an obviously amused Wakatoshi. “You are _fucking me_ into this table after this.”

The amusement doesn’t fade, even after Wakatoshi leans forward to kiss his temple. “Okay, Hajime.”

“I don’t even need sleep,” Hajime continues on, cutting and eating the pieces of steak he slices off. “I’ve been getting by with two to three hours each night. I can still function properly,” he mutters through mouthfuls of his meal. “I can’t believe I’m fucking turning into _Oikawa_ of all people.” There’s a sudden bite at his ear and he shouts at it.

“I’d rather you not turn into Oikawa,” Wakatoshi counters and when Hajime looks over his shoulder at him, his boyfriend looks constipated. “I thought I was infatuated with him, but I would rather not date him. Must we still talk about him?”

 _That_ makes Hajime laugh. “All you could talk about was Shittykawa in high school.” But when he looks at his boyfriend again, minutes later, there’s this fond look in his eyes as he stares at him. “What?”

This time, the smile on Wakatoshi’s lips turns into something mischievous. “Did you expect a proposal with this dinner?” It shocks Hajime into silence. “Because I can purchase a ring in the future, if you wish.”

All Hajime can come up with is an intelligent “Uh” before Wakatoshi is laughing.

“You do not have to answer me now, but you brought it up.”

The longer Hajime stares at Wakatoshi, with his bright eyes and soft smile and thumb gently rubbing the bare skin of his hip underneath his shirt, the more he considers his future with him, the way his heart seems to warm simply at the sight of _him_. Hard times and even harder opportunities—they’ve already gone through it all.

“You didn’t even ask me properly,” Hajime murmurs without a thought, realizing a moment too late he’s let the words slip out of his mouth. He hadn’t even really been thinking of it, of anything _remotely_ related to the word ‘marriage.’

But the soft smile on Wakatoshi’s face doesn’t fade. In fact, his eyes curve gently in his happiness, almost into crescents, and he’s _gorgeous_. “I can properly propose to you if that is what you are insinuating,” he answers, chuckling when that earns an immediate punch to the stomach. “Hajime—”

“Now, you’re being difficult on purpose,” Hajime cuts off. There’s a blossoming heat in the base of his neck, spreading to the rest of his body, and he looks off to the side when he can’t handle it anymore. “What do you think I’m insinuating anyways? You don’t _have_ to propose to me. I was freaking out earlier because I was caught off-guard.” He suddenly looks back to Wakatoshi, “Not that I didn’t like any of it.”

Again, Wakatoshi chuckles. Hajime has never seen him laugh so much in his life, especially in person. “I believe,” he starts off, his entire hand slipping underneath his shirt simply to rest his palm against bare skin, “that it’s too soon to think about marriage.”

Hajime’s head spins. “It is,” he agrees, but _why won’t Wakatoshi stop smiling?_ He closes his eyes briefly when his boyfriend suddenly leans in for a quick kiss. He can even _feel_ the smile against his own lips.

“But you haven’t rejected the idea of marrying me,” his boyfriend points out and, well, he’s not wrong. He barely ever is. “So, I assume you would enjoy a proposal in the future.”

Something touches his hand and Hajime jerks in surprise, instantly looking down to see Wakatoshi gently holding the base of his left ring finger between his index finger and thumb. It’s a barely noticeable movement, how he rubs the area softly with the pad of his fingertip, and Hajime feels like he’s going to go crazy with all the blood rushing to his head. He sucks in a breath when he feels Wakatoshi lean forward to kiss his temple.

“I will purchase a ring in the future. It’ll be a surprise.”

“How—” Hajime begins to blurt out. But when he looks to his boyfriend, with his earnest eyes and gentle smile, all words die in his throat. Maybe, he really does want to marry this man, with his kind heart and ridiculous word choices. “Wakatoshi,” he ends up saying instead. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it.

“Oh,” Wakatoshi suddenly says, when he finally glances off to the side and his gaze lands on something that’s not him. “It’s already past midnight.”

“What,” Hajime starts, following his boyfriend’s gaze to the clock to see that he’s right. _Shit_.

“We should prepare for bed and sleep.” And suddenly, Hajime is scrambling for Wakatoshi’s shoulders when he easily stands with him in his arms. “You still have to revise your research paper.”

Hajime can’t even find it in himself to argue with his boyfriend, simply letting himself be carried to the bedroom. When they pass through the doorway, his gaze lands on the clock by the bed, clearly flashing half past twelve in the morning.

Holy _fuck_. He guesses Tuesdays aren’t so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for no full on fucking on the table
> 
> maybe i will make it up in the future :o


End file.
